


Illusions of Deception

by Steph17x



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard, Study Series - Maria V. Snyder, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 06:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20384959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph17x/pseuds/Steph17x
Summary: She's the most powerful magician in the kingdom, he's the crown prince. Together they will destroy the world or save it.Everyone remembers where they were the day Iliana Auclair the Monster of Mirroken and the most powerful magic wielder in the kingdom was executedNobody remembers better than Iliana herself.Three years ago an innocent died so Iliana could live .Three years ago Iliana swore she would have her revenge.Working under a secret identity as protector  of the Crown Prince, Iliana is determined to take down the Royal family from the inside. Yet there are lies, betrayal and deception hidden around every corner and Iliana will learn secrets that could mean magic must be destroyed for good.But if anyone finds out she still lives. They won't hesitate to kill her.In a world where you are the villain. How do you become the Hero?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own work and is not a fan fiction. I have never written a novel before and in quite frankly terrified so please be nice!

It had been three years since I had killed my brother. 

Sometimes, far in the haunted echoes of my mind I could still hear him scream. Could still feel the cold and unforgiving dirt under my bare feet as I ran through the forest toward him with little concern for my own safety. 

Dead, my brother was dead and it was my fault.

The images of him broken and bleeding had never quite left my mind. I doubted they ever would. Some days I could hide behind a mask of sweet smiles and glazed over eyes, others it was all I could do to stay sane as I screamed and ripped at my hair, ugly tears pouring down my red hot cheeks. 

Those were the days I refused to leave the small cottage my family had first called home all those years before. Before our lives had been infected with hatred. My family had once been the most important thing in my life, had been a searing light in my soul that burned so passionately. Now, that light had been dampened, leaving nothing but a darkened hole and the embers of a memory of being loved and wanted. 

We had all suffered after the loss of him in our own ways. A blazing and unforgiving fire that had ripped through our home burning us all. I was never sure which of us had suffered most for it. My mother, who had once been such a wild and carefree spirit, who had never needed the gift of magic for the people of Mirroken to love her had grown cold and forbidden since my brother's passing. The small intricate sculptures of glass and wood she had once made now sat on the barren shelf slowly collecting dust. Underneath it, however, I could still see the beauty they possessed, the reason why mother had been so finely valued as an artist in the kingdom. That and the insistent rumours from the town folks that she had not been seen for so long because she was creating an almighty sculpture to present to the king and queen on the day of their eldest sons birthday. Everyone, across Mirroken knew that the crowned prince Sebastien's birthday was less a celebration of him surviving another year. But rather in the hopes that one day his lack of sanity would finally declare him unfit for the throne. Yet, in a kingdom where people paid coin to feel false happiness or create the illusion of joy I often imagined if we would all behave in the same manner as Sebastien without the use of magic, if he was in fact, the only sane one of us all. 

That, and the constant stories I had heard of mothers past. Some told with awe and excitement others with sorrow and mournfulness at the life she had sacrificed for her family. Initially employed by the king to create a wedding gift for his future bride, my mother had grown to be a close friend and confidante to the current queen. Gaining her a place of work within the castle and the offer to be the queen's lady in waiting. Yet despite the fact, she had been swirled up in a world of riches and courtly intrigue. Whereby she could have been granted lands and a title of her own. My mother had never let her success go to her head and every Saturday morning had returned to the marketplace where she had first started selling her gifts, never asking for money as she was no longer in need of it but merely handing over her works to a passing worker or a young child so that they could hold onto it, a token of happiness in times of despair. It was there that she first met my father, a carpenter whom had little to offer her at the time asides from his cunning wit and charm. A sly remark her way regarding the fact she was stealing his business and only weeks later she had willingly walked away from the riches and titles that had been offered to her all for the sake of love. Yet in the years our family had been together I had never once heard my mother complain about the life she now led, the luxuries that she had chosen to leave behind. My mother never spoke of her time in the palace. These days she rarely spoke to me at all. 

My red rimmed eyes met hers as I passed through our small living space. I could tell from the look of sorrow hidden behind her own that she knew I had just suffered through another episode of terror and dread. She never reached for me though, wrapping her arms around me as she once had. If we did touch now she flinched as if I was carrying a lethal infection that would leave her dead within a matter of seconds. 

'Iliana'  
I paused, that small effervescent light flaring up in my chest once more. Despite the fact I had accepted my mother's abandonment of me I couldn't help but feel as though the weight I had been carrying around for the last few years lifted slightly whenever she spoke to me. Even though the words were few and far between. 

'You should go to the market today, try to make a sale if you can'

The light dampened and was smothered again. I knew what that meant, searching through my dead brother's possessions for anything that would gain us coin. I knew my mother wanted them all removed eventually, the items now worth anything grown to be very limited. 

'Why don't'

I swallowed ready for chaos to ensue

'Why don't I sell a sculpture of yours? I could dust it down, people have been requesting your work for months'

I waited, no shouting or screaming or crying came just blank staring and a slow shake of her head. Her blonde hair falling limply over her face. 

I nodded in understanding. Despite the fact the bond between myself and my mother had been severed we still knew where to draw the line with each other. I never asked her to consider using her gift of art again and she never asked me to use my own of magic. She knew that it was my greatest fear and despite the fact that my skills could have gotten us out of this desolate cottage into a place of prestige I could never bring myself to do it. My magic, that had once been a soothing, calm measure now felt more like a poison than anything else, one that I often wished I could remove. 

My mother twisted the simple gold wedding band on her finger, gazing off into the distance as if she could see a place where she was happier. Today of all days, always created further tension between us both. 

The anniversary of my father's execution.  
Along with the cruel images of my brother's limp and frail body, cold to touch in my arms. My father was who I also often saw in my hallucinations. It had been a day much like this when the royal guards had broken through our door, one my father had made himself after our first caving in one winter. My mother had screamed and he had thrown himself in front of her to protect her, anger burning in his usually soft eyes. It was there that Marcus, captain of the royal guard and another of my mother's closest friends had solemnly told my parents that my father was believed to have committed the highest form of treason in the kingdom. He was believed to be emotionally unavailable and needed to be trialled immediately. 

Emotionally unavailable, whereby a person could not have their emotions manipulated by the use of magic. It was what the royal council was hoping to have Sebastian removed for. 

I had done nothing but stare as two other guards, their faces harsh and cruel had led my father outside, even as my mother screamed trying to wrench herself from the arms of Marcus. They tied him to a wooden post so that the magic wielder would be able to focus their power on one specific point without danger of him being able to run. I had seen all the guards though as they had passed and none of them possessed the mark of the Pathi, the copper eyes and rustic silver hair. 

Then Marcus had approached me, clutching a clear vial of blue liquid in one hand and my mother still in the other and I understood. 

I began screaming then, twisting and thrashing. Trying to break from the chains that were being wrapped around my legs, locking me to a carriage. If I wanted to run, I would have to carry the weight with me. I had begged to reason with them insisting that magic worked in a scale and overpowering my father's happiness could result in disaster for us all. Yet my head had been forcibly shoved back and the bitter sharp liquid had burned as it poured down the back of my throat. 

I had become another being entirely in those moments. No longer a human girl, who wanted to save her family but a beacon of overflowing iridescent power determined to infect the closest person to me. 

I never had been sure what I had expected to happen to my father when I had used such magic upon him. If I believed he would pick my mother up and spin her around in circles as they once had before running through the woods hugging trees and rolling through the mud never to be seen again. Or if I thought he would become a terror amongst the kingdom, a monster that killed and hunted, never able to be caught. 

Although the look of pure fear on my mother's face frequently plagued my thoughts. I more often saw the look of my father's after my magic had finished barreling into him. 

It had been empty.  
Unemotional  
Unavailable.

Asides from the slight panting that had occurred from the pain I had inflicted upon him. My father had clearly not had his emotion manipulated in any way. That was all the proof the guards had needed and merely moments later he had been dragged through the dirt and thrown into a prison wagon, his fingers brushing my mother's as she wept. 

It was only days after he had been executed. Victorious wild cheering had erupted across the kingdom at the death of a traitor to the crown. My mother had sat by the fire with her hands clamped tightly over her ears rocking back and forth. I had gone outside to offer a peaceful passing to him, a lit match in the night sky that was then blown out to symbolise the beginning and end of life as was tradition in Mirroken. 

My mother and I both knew that we couldn't blame the crown completely for my father's death. In Mirroken, where magic was our strongest asset having someone unable to be controlled by it running off to join rumoured rebel groups was too much of a risk. Killing them was the only option.

More than anything, my mother blamed me. 

My father's words to me that fateful day replayed in the distant echoes of my mind. 

'Iliana, this place, this kingdom, the happiness within it. It's all an illusion, look past it. You'll see the truth.' 

And as I walked towards the Market clutching my brothers once beloved items in my arms, passing a girl who danced freely to music, the smile never leaving her face despite the way her leg was twisted and scar covered realistically causing her agony with every step. Or the male who accompanied her on his fiddle, his music joyful and loud despite the fact he looked so sullen and thin it was a wonder he was able to stand up.

I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps my father had been right.


	2. 2

A scream  
The sound pillaged through my ears, wrecking me from the inside out like a cascading tidal wave of loss and grief. I braced a hand firmly against the nearest market stall, a small iridescent black table scoured in items made of amber, the work sharp and precise as my mother's once was.  
The pain rippled through me again as several of those beautiful glass pieces decorated and crafted so neatly by hand fell to the cobble stoned floor, cracking into tiny insignificant fragments just as my soul had been all those years ago.   
The male, behind the stall. A man with worn leather skin reached a hand tentatively towards me and for a moment I craved that touch, the feel of comfort, of belonging.   
Then I remembered who I was  
Illiana Auclair  
The Monster of Mirroken  
Who had killed her own brother out of nothing besides from wanting to watch a child scream in such feral pain and agony.   
In this world I was a demon  
Deception, lies, disguise. Those were words that had become far too familiar . A constant rhythm that reverberated through my bones.   
I swore swiftly under my breath as the male with skin of leather and pools of dusty ash for eyes scanned me.   
I recited the incarnations of my power under my breath, a soft muttering. My power building up inside of me, willing and eager to pour out until I yielded completely to it. 

'I...I thought...the demon' I forced my voice to quiver, a fearful girl who's eyes had mistaken an innocent for a terror that had once promised peace and plenty across Mirroken yet had swapped it for blood lust and a keen hatred for the world.   
That's what they had said about me after the death of my brother. That the murder of him was the first step I was willing to take towards conquering Mirroken.   
Once, in a world that seemed a distant memory to me now the people of the kingdom had called me blessed, had showered me in gifts. All of which my mother had refused to accept.   
The magic of the pathi, an ability to take control of the human emotions, most with the gift could only manipulate one, two if they were truly gifted. There had never been someone like me, who had the ability to take control of them all, to manipulate any emotion as I saw fit.   
Never before had there been anyone like me  
And yet never would there be anyone again. 

The male stared at me, those mesmerising eyes still baring into me. I forced my hands to shake, the tears tasted like iron as they slipped down my face.   
'The Monster'

'Iliana Auclair?'

His voice was a mix of wonder and awe. A confused young woman who had mistaken an innocent for the devil, whom had seen someone who had bore some resemblance to a girl that had been executed by order of the king three years ago.   
He looked at me with such awe and fascination that for a moment I wondered if he had never seen a person cry before, had never seen someone wear any emotion that didn't radiate with positivity asides from fear.  
Fear of me.

He looked me up and down, leaning over the work crafted so finely at his hand. His accent lilted, a soft calmness to his voice. 

'Sometimes the hardest monsters to defeat are the ones we see in our reflection every passing moment' 

I flinched, preparing my magic, the erratic pulse of it ready to be unleashed upon the world. 

A hand

Gripping around the rough hewn scars around my wrist. I tried to wrench free, gathering up power with little control. If unleashed the imbalance would cause distress across Mirroken, could cause hundreds of people to enter a state of unavoidable depression that no other Pathi would ever have the ability to fix. 

My magic lulled and calmed as he dug his fingers into the two points of my arms and for a brief moment I met his eyes of ash.   
That was all he needed and before I could grab a hold of the tether that controlled my power once more, he had pushed it so far down into the depths of my soul that it would take me at least a few days to be able to use the full strength of it again. 

A restrictor 

There were few of them nowadays, many claimed they were simply an ancient myth, a way of keeping the Pathi from rebelling. People who had the ability to stop magic from being used. Who had quelled wars. The Restrictors lived a life of peace, studying manuscripts and texts from eons before, when magic had been a foreign idealism to the world. It was believed amongst the people of Mirroken that they royal family had given them residence in undisclosed locations to protect them.  
I knew the truth  
The royals had been killing the restrictors for years.   
With magic being the strongest weapon amongst our people, having people who were weapons against it themselves, could not be permitted

I swallowed sharply, letting the air rush into my body as he released me from his harsh grip. 

'You think I would not remember the girl my own daughter chose to give up her life for' 

All at once panic flooded through me and my emotions became a broken dam of uncontrollable anger and disgust. At what had been sacrificed so I could live. 

A waste of a life, that was what Ami had died for.

And now her father stood directly in front of me, his gaze soft and warm despite the pain I had brought upon his family. He motioned delicately with a finger and I couldn't help but notice the absence of his left arm, my admiration of him growing further by the moment at the skill he possessed to be able to create such beautiful art with only one hand. 

'Come with me' 

I shivered, gripping the deep groove of the floorboards, blood pouring down my hands as my fingernails cracked under the pressure. 

'Where is she?' 

They had arrived in the middle of the night, when the moon had lit a calming path across our small home. The light soft and soothing Moments after the guards had arrived. The moon had disappeared, swallowed by impenetrable darkness. 

My mother had squared her shoulders and stared at him defiantly, every ounce of her small frame shook with anger. That spread through her bones, enveloping her and forcing her to become its unwilling victim. Grief had become my mother's imprisoner since the death of my father. Yet that day, the guards had arrived, ready to imprison me for the crimes I had committed. She had remained steadfast, refusing to release any possible knowledge of my whereabouts. 

'I already told you, she threatened me with her power the night my husband was taken into custody. I tried to stop her but she uses her magic on me. I tried to get away'

My mother did not let go of the gaze of the guards as she pulled the neck of her night shift down, an ugly dark mark burned into her olive skin. A mark that could only be imprinted on someone if they had tried to prevent a Pathi from using their magic upon them. It was the mark of a betrayer amongst the people in Mirroken. Yet, for my mother and I it had become our saviour. The guards had left shortly afterwards with the belief that I had forced my magic upon my mother and then left for a distant land, preparing for when I would return later, an army of rebels willing to heed to my every command willing to bring down Mirroken. 

For five days I had lain in that small cramped space under the floor, for days the air had been suffocating and the space grew smaller and smaller. My mother passed me small pitchers of water when she was able to and scraps of food. Yet they were few and far between. I had been unaware that she had left home seeking help until a few days later, a girl had been dragged from the barren depths of the forest and executed for her crimes.

They said her name was Iliana Auclair.  
The Monster of Mirroken had been slain. A story that would be told around fires for years.   
Yet Iliana had not been paraded in front of crowds, tortured and humiliated at the hands of guards. I knew that all too well, had watched as this bright eyed girl who was willing to give up her life for the chance to have a future where the monarchy did not hold control of our every movement. A world not just of peace, but of passion and excitement, fear, wonder and mistrust. All things that made the world normal.   
Ami had died for it, had expected me to live for it. I had stopped living a long time ago. 

I followed him through the throngs of people, weaving myself amongst bodies. He didn't slow for me though, refused to look back to check if I was still following him. Perhaps he didn't care if I did, perhaps he knew I would anyway. 

The silence echoed around us as I tried desperately to match his stride. Part of me wanted to collapse to the ground and beg for his forgiveness. The other wanted to remind him that he had risked too much already in allowing me to approach him in the first place. That one, never approached a demon with their guard down. 

His pacing slowed as he turned a side alley, passing several street beggars, their clothes damp and bodies frail yet their faces alight with unnatural happiness. Pulling the cloth apron he wore off, over his head, my man of mystery. approached a door of azure with a solid brass lions head handle. A significant number of taps and knocks followed. I tried desperately to follow the pattern at first yet the small complications of it could not be perceived by the human mind much like magic. The door swung open and he turned to me, a beckoning invitation and a choice to follow him. I turned towards the darkened street, catching the eye of a young street urchin who smiled at me.  
A world without illusion just as both my father and Ami had died for.  
'The moon will always guide you home' my father had once told me.   
But the moon had stopped being my protector years ago.  
And home  
That was a word I no longer knew the meaning of.


End file.
